


Come On Baby, Light My Fire

by RastafarianTargaryen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 5 Things, 5 Times, Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Firefighters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:33:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4143084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RastafarianTargaryen/pseuds/RastafarianTargaryen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renly is hopeless in the kitchen and should not be trusted with fire of any kind. Fortunately (or not so fortunately) his friendly neighborhood fireman Loras is really hot.</p><p>Or, “five times Loras is there to witness Renly's kitchen nightmares."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come On Baby, Light My Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from "Light My Fire" by the Doors. 
> 
> There's lots of mention and discussion of food in this fic so if that's triggering for you, you may want to turn back. Otherwise, it's just a cute little thing that I hope you enjoy!

1- Microwave popcorn

Renly doesn’t consider himself a good cook, or even a competent cook. His mother had tried to teach him when he was younger, but he never took to it. He figures it’s time to try now that he’s moved into a new apartment on his own. Local markets full of fresh food are all around him; it would be a shame not to take advantage of them. He’ll start tomorrow.

He pops the bag of popcorn into the microwave, setting the timer as per the bag’s instructions. Figuring he has a few minutes before it’s done, Renly walks into his bedroom to check his phone. He’s laughing at a Vine when the fire alarm goes off. At first he thinks it’s the next door neighbors. They’re a couple of students who like to get high every weekend, if the lingering smell of pot in the hallway is any indication. The smell isn’t the familiar sweetness of cannabis though but an acrid burning. Renly runs to the kitchen and sure enough, the microwave popcorn is on fire.

Panicking, he wrenches the microwave door open. A puff of smoke greets him as he runs across the room for a potholder. Renly rifles through the drawer, finding a pair of tongs first and uses them to grab the charred bag. The bag lands with a light plop into the sink at the same time he hears a knocking at the door. Renly turns the tap on, submerging the ruined snack, and opens the door. A pair of firefighters, in full gear, stands expectantly in the doorway.

The first, a woman, asks looking around, “Where’s the fire?”

Renly sheepishly answers, “Oh no, it’s okay. No fire, just my popcorn.”

The other one, a young guy Renly surmises, steps into the apartment. He looks around the corner, noting the wet bag. He nods to his colleague, and they both remove their headgear. “First time microwaving?” The guy smirks. Renly tries not to let the arrogance in his voice dampen his spirits like the bag sitting in his sink.

“No, as a matter of fact. Probably shouldn’t have stepped out of the room though.” He tries a light laugh.

“Yeah, that would be a no," the curly haired guy frowns.

The woman walks over to the microwave, inspecting it for damage. “You’re supposed to take it out of the plastic first,” she suppresses a laugh as she lifts up a piece of burned plastic to Renly. “It says so right on the box.” Renly’s face turns as red as her hair.

“Or the bag.” The curly haired firefighter gestures to the sink. His lips crook up in a smile that Renly definitely doesn’t find devastatingly handsome.

He answers with what he hopes is nonchalance, “Oh does it? I thought that was only if you had a 700 Watt microwave.”

She shakes her head at him and taps the appliance. “Either way, it looks alright. No fire damage, just residual smoke from the bag. Air it out and if you think about burning any more plastic, give us a call first.”

Renly avoids their twin gazes. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

The woman is out the door, starting down the hallway, when the guy stops in the doorframe. He calls down the hall for his partner. “Ygritte! Come look at this. This guy bought our calendar.”

Ygritte runs back into the apartment, finding the source of amusement. The calendar by Renly’s apartment door was a joke gift from his friends last Christmas. It’s one of those charity calendars where the subjects are nude or semi-nude and placed in provocative poses. The Firefighters of Rescue Company 1 are a particularly attractive group that Renly feels fortunate to view every time he leaves or enters his apartment. More than once, he’s stood naked in front of the calendar and jerked off to the firefighter of the month. Thankfully it’s mostly men, but not so thankfully the firefighter of the displayed month is the same as one standing in front of him right now. Loras Tyrell, longtime volunteer and first year paid member of Rescue 1 according to his bio, laughs at Renly’s calendar.

“Looks like we both have something in common,” Loras speaks. He points to the calendar, open to a shirtless photo of him suggestively straddling a fire hose. “We both think I’m pretty.”

Renly chuckles coolly. “Do we? And here I was, thinking I was keeping track of the date.”

Loras Tyrell scowls, which makes Ygritte burst out into laughter. Once she calms down and wipes the tears from her eyes, she says, “I like this guy.”

This makes Loras scowl even harder and he cuts in curtly, “We have to go attend to some _real_ emergencies.”

Ygritte’s gone out the door when Loras looks Renly in the eye and says, “By the way, July ended a week ago.”

Renly doesn’t have a chance to splutter out a mortified reply because Loras is gone.

* * *

 

2-Rice

It’s been a month and Renly’s still not a master chef. He can cook things in the microwave without setting off the fire alarm though. That’s an improvement. He knows to take the plastic off the popcorn and not to put metal in the microwave. It is with this progress that he feels confident moving into the world of stovetop cooking.

He’s got the water boiling for rice and everything is going smoothly. He doesn’t walk away from the food this time. Stannis actually whacked him upside the head when Renly told him what he did to the popcorn.

“The first rule of cooking is never walk away from what you’re making! You don’t have to hover over it but don’t walk away from it.” This started an argument, not that it takes much to start an argument between the two of them. Stannis accused Renly of being an irresponsible child, Renly accused Stannis of being a sanctimonious prick, and that was the end of that.

Stannis’s reminder runs through his head as he cooks. He figures it’s safe to at least look away from the food so he chances a glance at the Firefighters of Rescue 1, hanging by his front door as always. There didn’t seem to be that many members of Rescue 1, Renly notes to himself. Firefighter Tyrell is featured in almost half the months. Maybe they didn’t all want to be a part of a sexy calendar. The poses this guy made seemed like he was all for it, arrogant prick that he was. Now that he had met the guy, his incessant presence on his calendar was making it hard to jerk off. Instead, Renly kept thinking about the smirk on his face and the definition of his jaw once he took off his helmet. There were plenty of things Renly would do to him just to wipe the smirk off his face and replace it with something a bit more indecent.

A strong odor bolts Renly out of his fantasy. “Oh shit!” He sprints to the stove and finds his rice burned and blackening in the pan. Renly shuts off the gas and dumps the sludge into the sink. He feels the eyes of Loras Tyrell boring into him from the calendar, silently judging him. “Oh fuck you!” Renly shouts at it.

“I beg your pardon?” Someone from outside his apartment door answers back.

He mouths a silent “shit” under his breath and cautiously opens the door. “Oh um, hi.” Surer than, well, shit, the hot firefighter from his calendar is staring back at him, this time out of uniform. “I um, that wasn’t directed at you.”

Loras makes a face, “Burn something else, did you?”

“You’re the firefighter; you can tell me.”

Loras walks in and sees the rice pan in the sink. “Really, man? Again? What distracted you this time.”

“Nothing,” Renly answers a bit too quickly, trying not to think about Loras’s abs under his t-shirt. “What are you even doing here?”

Loras doesn’t miss a beat. “Visiting my sister. She lives on this floor. I heard your voice from the hall.”

Renly rolls his eyes. “That wasn’t an invitation to come on in. I don’t even know you.”

“What a travesty,” he says flippantly. “I’m Loras, but your calendar could have told you that.” He points at the thing on the wall. “You’ve got the right month this time.” Loras quirks an eyebrow.

Renly grits his teeth in a way that is unfortunately reminiscent of his brother Stannis. “Renly.” He extends his hand to shake, which Loras takes. He doesn’t know why he told the hot firefighter his name. If anything, he would have liked to remain anonymous to continue fantasizing in private.

“Well,” Loras looks around the apartment. “I’ll see you around.”

“See you around,” Renly blushes back. Once Loras is gone and Renly can no longer hear his footsteps down the hall, he turns his attentions to Calendar Loras. “Fuck you and your fucking handsome face.”

* * *

3-Pasta

He’s boiling water, the bare minimum of cooking. His mother taught him how to do this when he was practically an infant. She would not approve of the jarred sauce and frozen meatballs he’s pairing his fusilli with, but she doesn’t have to know. Baby steps. 

The water boils without a hitch, in part because he’s salted it beforehand and knows by sight when it’s ready. Renly tips the box to empty the fusilli. Somehow he just misses the edge of the pan and the fusilli empties into the gas jet beneath the pot. It catches fire. Renly yanks the water hose from the sink and douses the flames with water. Everything is quiet for a moment as the extinguished gas jet hisses out. The silence is broken with a knock at the door. Renly thinks that this can’t be the fire department because the alarm hasn’t had time to sound, but sure enough who should be standing in front of him but Loras Tyrell, yet again privy to his embarrassment.

Renly opens his mouth but Loras pushes past Renly to shut the gas off. He takes out the extinguisher beside him and sprays the remaining sparks with a quick swipe of foam.

Renly stares at the stove in shock for a moment. His fusilli, what very little he can see of it beneath the white foam, is brown and burnt. Conscious of his expression, he wipes the shock off his face and looks to Loras, finally asking the question on his mind. “How did know to come here? The alarm didn’t even go off this time.”

“Are you kidding? We’re always answering calls from this building. Your neighbors have taken to calling us before you try to cook. They’re safe from potentially devastating fire; you’re safe from your disastrous cooking skills.”

Renly opens and closes his mouth a few times at a loss for words. He blinks up at Loras as if for help. He settles on, “I’m offended and frankly shocked that none of them decided to tell me about this.”

“Don’t take it personally. I think they have a betting pool going on your mishaps.” Loras laughs a vibrant, deep-throated laugh.

Renly glares. “Those bastards.” He adds under his breath, “They must think I’m a _chadrool_.”

Loras gives an inquisitive look. “Hmm?”

“Oh um nothing.”

“No, what was the word you said?” His tone isn’t mocking; he’s genuinely interested.

“ _Chadrool_ , it’s something my mom used to say to my dad growing up.” He chuckles a little at his parents’ fights. The only time he had heard his mom speak Italian was when she was fighting with someone. She insisted she didn’t remember much of the language her grandfather taught her as a child. Renly used to get punished for repeating those words out loud to Stannis and Robert.

“So…” Loras brings them back to the present. “You’re Italian…and you managed to set pasta on fire.”

“Half Italian,” Renly corrects.

“And completely hopeless. I notice you don’t dispute ‘on fire’.”

“Well…” Renly teases.

“We gotta get you one of these.” Loras nods to his extinguisher.

“That’s not necessary.”

“Dude, in three months, you have burned pasta, rice, and microwave popcorn. You need your own fire extinguisher, at the very least to keep us from diverting our attentions to you and your cooking mishaps.”

“Yes, you have other emergencies to attend to. So you say.”

“Look,” Loras begins in a delicate tone. “Renly, if you want to learn how to cook or something, I can help you. I’m not great but I don’t burn stuff.”

Renly flashes his eyes to the sink, anywhere to avoid the firefighter’s intense gaze. It’s kind this time, generous. It’s too much. “Um, er…I’ll think about it.”

“Here’s my card.” Loras’s hand brushes briefly with Renly’s as he gives him the card. “Call me if you need help with anything. My personal number is on that one, if you have questions unrelated to fire safety.” He winks. He actually fucking winks and Renly wants to collapse into the floor and die. The silence hangs between them for a few moments until Loras says, “I should probably go. Be careful, Renly.”

“Have a good night.” Renly calls after him like a lovesick schoolboy. He blushes in spite of himself.

* * *

4-Birthday cake

True to his word, Loras ensured that Renly had his own fire extinguisher. He personally dropped it off at his apartment and spent his day off showing him fire safety procedures. Renly tried to maintain focus, but he couldn’t help thinking how irresponsible it was for someone so attractive to teach lifesaving advice. At least he got to take in the view of Mr. July (and April and November and December) in the flesh.

Surprisingly, he had something in common with his personal fire safety expert: a dislike of Stannis Baratheon.

“Asshole cut our funding,” Loras launched into a diatribe. “We’re down to two rescue units from four. We can’t do all the work we used to, which puts more pressure on the ladder and engine units, which makes the city more vulnerable when we can’t do our jobs.”

“I didn’t peg you as the type to get so passionate about budget cuts.”

“When they affect the safety and the reputation of my line of work, you’re damn right I do. You say he’s your brother?”

“Yeah,” Renly chuckled, images of Stannis hanging upside down from their older brother Robert’s hands flooding back to him. As a member of the mayor’s finance board, Renly’s brother Stannis was responsible for the budget cuts about which Loras was so incensed. “He was just as much a pragmatist growing up, unfortunately.”

Loras sucked in a breath. “I’ve never met him personally, but the captain says he’s a right old prick.”

“That he is,” Renly raised his beer in toast. “To Stannis and his austerity measures.”

“To that right old prick. May he rot in hell.” Loras clinked his beer with Renly’s.

They sat together for the rest of the afternoon, joking and talking with one another. Renly heard about Loras’s family and more about his job. Renly didn’t know if it was the alcohol or the desperate desire to see more of Loras but he asked him nonetheless, “You wanna come to my birthday party next week? I have a few friends coming over for cake and stuff.”

“Sure.” Loras’s eyes crinkled slightly from his huge smile. He added in jest, "Someone has to make sure you don't burn the place down. You won't be just putting yourself at risk this time." Renly hit him with a pillow from the couch.

~~

Renly sits at the table with his friends. Loras is across the table from him, chatting up Renly’s friend Sansa who seems as taken with Loras as Renly is.

“How did you two meet?” Brienne gestures to Loras.

Renly opens his mouth but it is Loras who answers first. “He’s a pyromaniac and a klutz. I kept getting called to put out fires for him.”

“Sounds about right,” Sansa teases.

“Hey!” Renly takes offense. “Technically there were never any flames.”

“Because I’m good at my job,” Loras counters with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

Renly tries to hold his glare but breaks into a laugh instead.

Sansa wordlessly rises from her chair and walks to the kitchen. Brienne takes this as a cue and shuts the lights. A flicker and then a burst of light illuminate Sansa in the kitchen, holding a cake with a single candle on it. She and Brienne start singing “Happy birthday” on their way back to the table, Loras joining in as well. Sansa places the cake on the table and Loras bolts out of his chair. He comes back with the fire extinguisher in his hands and demonstrates the spray and sweep motion he taught Renly last week. The song is forgotten as Brienne rushes to turn the light back on. No one moves or dares speak for several minutes.

“What,” Renly blankly states.

“What is with you people and your complete lack of common sense?” Loras asks.

“Thought it might be funny,” Renly suggests.

“That’s a sparkler candle. Outside they’re one thing but inside they’re downright suicidal. Do you know how many accidents sparklers cause every year?” He replies to the dumfounded silence. “Twenty-three hundred.” Loras is glaring now. He directs his rage at Renly this time, “After everything I told you last week, you get a sparkler candle and light it inside. You astound me.” The wake of silence is enough to sour the mood of Renly’s party.

“Happy birthday,” Sansa offers sweetly, daring to break the silence.

Renly looks down at the extinguished mess of foam in front of them. “Thanks, Sansa,” he says quietly.

* * *

5-Christmas

Renly calls the rescue company phone number in a blind panic. If he weren’t having a crisis he would find it funny that this is the first time he has actually elicited their help directly.

“Rescue 1, what’s your emergency?” The dispatcher answers in a monotone. Renly doesn’t blame him. Who wants to work on Christmas Eve?

“I swear it’s not a fire this time.”

“Okay…well what is it?"

“It’s an eel.”

A pause. “Excuse me?”

“I said,” Renly repeats, feeling ridiculous. “It’s an escaped eel.”

Slowly, the dispatcher states, “An escaped eel.”

“Yes. It was supposed to be for Christmas dinner but—”

“It escaped,” the dispatcher finishes.

“Yes.”

“Alright, we’ll send someone over.” Renly hangs up. “Tyrell!” the dispatcher calls to Loras, who snaps to attention from his place on the La-Z-Boy. “Baratheon’s got an eel problem. Seems his has escaped.”

Loras made a face. “An eel? No fire this time?”

“He says no.”

“Just as well. It was about time he learned how to cook. I was tired of cleaning up after him.”

“Please,” Ygritte jumps in. “You’re practically in love with him. You never get tired of cleaning up his messes. I bet there’s one mess in particular you would love to clean up—.”

Loras throws a hand over her mouth. “I’ve got a job.” He suits up and leaves the station, Ygritte following him around with innuendos the entire time.

~~

Renly has about exhausted his patience. The eel is not in the filled bathtub where he left it swimming around. It’s not in any of the other rooms in his apartment. After an hour of knocking on his neighbors’ doors, he can safely say that it’s not in any of their apartments. Nothing is more uncomfortable than interrupting people’s Christmas Eve festivities to ask if they have seen an eel.

Renly’s aware that not many Americans eat eel, but when he saw it at the fish market he couldn’t resist. His great-grandfather used to make it every Christmas Eve when Renly was a child. The rich eel at dinner and homemade _panettone_ at dessert _were_ Christmas to Renly. Although he can’t cook anywhere near as well as his great-grandfather, he had seen his mother prepare a live eel for cooking several times and convinced himself that he could do it. Now the eel was nowhere to be seen and Renly’s Christmas cheer was beginning to deteriorate.

A knock at the door startles him. Loras stands there when he opens the door. Renly answers with a bitter “merry Christmas.” He turns to stare at the wall, ignoring the nude Rescue 1 firefighters spraying tinsel out of firehoses. Neither the present reality nor fantasy of hot firefighters can lift his spirits.

Loras senses his unease because he replies gently, “Merry Christmas. So…you’ve got an eel problem.”

“Yeah. It, um, escaped from my bathtub and now it’s crawling around god knows where.”

"Wait really?" Renly nods. "I thought that was a euphemism for..." Loras glances down at Renly's crotch. "Not that I wouldn't be down—"

"No, no. God, no.” Renly turns bright red. “An eel _really_ escaped from my bathtub."

“May I ask why you had a live eel in a bathtub?”

“Christmas dinner.” By way of explanation he adds, “It’s traditional.”

“Okay,” Loras accepts. “Show me where you last saw him.”

Renly leads Loras to the bathroom and Loras looks around. “Hmm…beats me.” He rises from his crouched position and then pauses. “Wait, look at this.” He points to a small gap between the bathtub and the floor and shines a flashlight in it. “This could be our little pal’s escape route. Looks like it leads to the downstairs apartments.” A distant scream interrupts Loras’s next comment, and Renly smiles.

“Sounds like someone found the eel.”

Both of them follow the screaming and immediately find the source. Mrs. Pulaski, one Renly’s neighbors across the hall, is screaming about a snake on her fire escape.

“Excuse me, ma’am, I’ll handle this,” Loras saunters in the apartment using his best firefighter voice. The old woman points at her outside window and Renly follows in after the pair of them. On the fire escape, what looks like a snake is flopping around aimlessly. Renly takes a closer look and beams. It’s his eel. Somehow the eel got from his bathtub to Mrs. Pulaski’s fire escape. He has to commend the animal on its tenacity.

Loras opens the window and steps out onto the fire escape. Gingerly, he lifts the eel up with both hands, trying to prevent it from squirming out of them and causing an even bigger problem. “I’ll take it from here,” he says to Mrs. Pulaski, who is staring dumbfounded at the animal in Loras’s hands. Renly rushes to open the door for Loras and avoid Mrs. Pulaski’s expression. They bid her a merry Christmas and race back to Renly’s apartment.

“Where do I put this thing?” Loras looks around frantically. The eel has stopped moving but Loras will be glad to be rid of it.

Renly reaches his hands out for it. “I’ll take it.” He takes the limp eel from Loras and places it on the countertop over a cutting board. “So you’re working Christmas?” He slices the eel from end to end, removing the head and preparing it for the frying pan.

Loras winces at the eviscerated eel. “Yeah. It’s not so bad. Here,” he sidles up to Renly at the counter. “Do you need some help with that? We both know that you’re a disastrous cook.”

Renly laughs. The corner of his mouth turns up in a smirk. “What about all the Christmas fire emergencies?”

“I’m on call for another two hours.” He pushes in closer to Renly. “If my pager doesn’t go off, I’m all yours.”

Renly stares up at the handsome firefighter who just offered to spend his Christmas Eve slicing up eel with him. He frowns a little. "Don't do it because you have to."

Loras inclines his head down to meet Renly's gaze. They're quite close now, Loras's breath blowing in Renly's face. "I don't feel obligated. Despite your kitchen nightmares, your asshole brother, and inability to keep track of your eels, I like you, Renly Baratheon. You seem like a nice guy." Before Renly can respond, Loras meets his lips with Renly's and kisses him, gently. Renly returns the kiss with more ardor, feeling Loras move his hands into Renly's hair.

"Mmm," Renly breaks the kiss. "I should probably finish this first." He gestures to the eel. 

Loras takes the knife from the table. "Let me help you with that."

Renly offers his hand for it back. "No, you don't know how this is done."

"Please. In all good conscience, I can't allow you to do any of the cooking tonight."

"This isn't cooking, it's prep. I can handle prep."

Loras laughs. "Fine, but you tell me how to cook this. You can do the dishes."

"You're on," Renly smiles. The two cook together, miraculously uninterrupted by Loras's pager. Renly can honestly say that it's the best eel he's ever had with some of the best company he's ever known. 

**Author's Note:**

> The eel part is based on a very real thing that happened to my great-grandpa Giuseppe. His neighbors called the authorities because they thought his eel was a snake out on the fire escape. I wanted to use that story in a fic somehow and I thought why not here. Also a chadrool is just a foolish person. My mom says it a lot.


End file.
